


Omoide

by featheredstag



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-09 21:51:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1999194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/featheredstag/pseuds/featheredstag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham awakens to find himself once more at the beginning. Was it all just a freakishly vivid dream, or the distant strings of a second chance?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so...here's the deal. It's a random idea that struck me and this is my drabble for it. It could become a full chaptered work. Leave kudos/comments if you want more. It would end up being a bit of a redemption story. With smut. Smutty redemption is best redemption. 
> 
> Also, have pity, this is the second thing I've ever had the nerve to post.
> 
> Not sure who will pair, who will live, what will change. Have an idea? Leave a comment. Have a flame? Then I'll get the marshmallows.

Will felt the pierce of the of blade in his guts. Felt the sudden warm rush across his abdomen and the sickening cold settling into his guts. His brain already flooding his system with chemicals to dull the pain, a vain struggle to slow the pour of precious blood and protect the vital organs. His body held upright by repentant arms that clutch and sooth him. Will can't decide which pain is worse, the one in his stomach or the breaking of his heart.

"I let you know me. See me. I gave you a rare gift...but you didn't want it." Words that cut so much deeper than the harpy ever could. 

He reached for Abigail, whose throat is sliced deep. Blood coming in a familiar arterial spray to the floor. He knew Jack was suffering the same fate in the pantry and Alana outside on the front walk. Storm blue eyes watched the hunched figure of Hannibal slip from view. So strange, that his shoulders slumped, almost defeated...regretful... 

Will's eyes shifted to look at Abigail's lifeless own. Gone from this world. Safe in the cradle of something she could never have in life; peace. He could already see the black clouding around his vision before he heard the wet sucking breaths of something beyond them. The Stag...lay in it's own blood and struggling for breath. When the sides stopped heaving...Will wanted to scream and claw and wail and tear the world apart. 

Everything...he'd lost everything... 

Black closed around his peripheral until he was left with only central vision and warm numb. It's so easy...like slipping into a warm bath. He stared at the dead Stag. And knew only regret as his vision went black. 

\- - - 

Air rushed into his lungs so light and sweet that it scalded his lungs with cold. Eyes open and wide as he stared up at the familiar ceiling of his home in Wolf Trap. Water stains from years of neglect making it look all the worse for wear. Sitting up and wincing, though it is a knee-jerk reaction, reaction to expected pain. His hand moving to his wet, sweat soaked stomach. His fingers dipping and sliding across his abdomen where the phantom bite of the harpy still lingered though was beginning to fade. 

Wide awake and confused, he stood and make his way quickly to the bathroom. The heads of his dogs raising to look at him. Suddenly concerned due to the nervous energy that their master was putting off. He stood in the mirror, tearing the shirt from over his head and dropping it with a wet splock to the tiled floor. His torso was pale, lean and ribs showing. 

No wound. His stomach was unscathed and only a bit sunken from the deplorable diet that had held him in it's clutches. Was he dead? Did he die? Heaven (or Hell) sure smelled like funky bathroom and dogs. 

Staring with eyes even more haunted than normal at the reflection in the mirror before he heard the buzz of his phone. Letting out a sigh he walked back into the living room. Eyes on the window that Randall Tier had crashed through and he'd had to replace. Funny...there was a familiar crack in the bottom pane and the sill was old...looked like it had before. 

Lifting the phone, he saw the text from Alana Bloom. 'Don't forget your class is at 2pm not 1pm today.' Will dropped the phone. He remembered that text. He looked at the dogs and counted five. Five? Where was Winston? 

Cold dread ate at his guts before he let out a breath. "Jesus, Will..." Said to himself as he reached up and rubbed his face. Just a dream. Just a horribly, frighteningly detailed and vivid dream. Maybe it was the combination of week old pizza, cheap whiskey and his dessert of asprin kick starting an imagination that needed no help. 

Picking up the phone again and checking the date. No Garrett Jacob Hobbs...no Abigail...no encephalitis...no Hannibal. He seriously considered calling Quantico and cancelling his lectures for that day, but he knew he wouldn't. 

Maybe a shower...yeah, a shower would help. He'd start to forget the wild dream his imagination whipped up. It was too crazy to be real, after all. Maybe he would talk to Alana about his dreams playing a little too much hell with him. Today was going to be torture to get through so he wouldn't really have to worry about playing the sympathy card. He was walking sympathy by the look of him. 

Sure...sure that's what he'll do. Right after his lectures. 

A quick shower and not bothering to shave as he slid into a pair of khakis and grabbed the first flannel on the top of the stack. Feeding the dogs and walking outside to his Sedan. Jacket pulled on to ward off the beginnings of Autumn's chill. Maryland weather could be a fickle mistress at the best of times. 

He looked at his dogs, galloping across the ill kept acres in front of his house. Let them have their fun by throwing a ball that had seen better days for about half an hour before he had to leave. Saying his goodbyes with warm affection reserved only for them. Shame...he liked the idea of Winston. Maybe he'd swing by the shelter on his way home. Slipping his glasses on and sliding into the driver's side. "Go on." Said with a smile and sending the pack back up to the porch and inside. 

All just a dream that he'd chalk up to his imagination shifting gears into over drive. 

Just a dream. 


	2. Woven Threads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The strings of a second chance sounding in Will's mind. He must decide how he's going to play this new game. One he can't just walk into, but must easy in. Reliving echoes of the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm happily surprised by how many kudos/comments/hits my little prologue drabble got. So, I give you the first official chapter of Omoide.

Surreal. That's certainly a word for it. His lecture was on a case that he'd done some work on a few days previous. God, it felt like an eternity ago. Will could barely offer even the most fragile of false smiles as the bright and hopeful youths his class filtered in. Each with ambitions as lofty as Jack Crawford's himself. He had to shake that habit. He'd only met the man once. Nodding to signal the beginning of the class. Touching the small control to dim the lights with eyes trained on the lower rim of his glasses; an old trick he's learned to avoid eye contact.

Eye contact was not necessarily key to how his empathy worked, but it certainly didn't help. It forged a quick connection and made everyone so very loud. He pushed back the hum of the back of his mind whenever he was in a crowd and clicked the button that turned down the lights. Pushing his glasses up and carding a hair through his unruly curls before he turned to face the still picture on the projector. 

It was all auto pilot from here. Though his hands trembled with the unsettling sense of deja vu. It whispered at the back of his mind even while he spoke to the assembled students. Like a trickle of chilled sweat down the heated flesh over one's spine. He'd done this lecture before...just a dream. 

His eyes trained on the picture of the male figure across the stairs, the arterial blood spatter up the wall, high enough to mark the photos which were so lovingly hung there impressive compliment to the arc that was managed for that angle. Will's voice, finally free of the trembling insecurity as he can feel the slow settling of another consciousness over his own. Cold, steady...familiar. "I shoot Mr. Marlow twice - severing jugular and carotid with near surgical precision. He will die watching me take what is his away from him. This is my design." 

The students wrote while Will was already miles away in the house in Connecticut. He can still smell the soft vanilla scent of candles dancing at the edges of his consciousness. Turning his head as if to watch the students in his peripheral when he was really turning his head to regard the soft sobbing of a frantic Mrs. Marlow desperately trying to key in an alert on the alarm. 

"I shoot Mrs. Marlow expertly through the neck. This is not a fatal wound, the bullet misses every artery. She's paralyzed before it leaves her body." His voice steady and precise...his brows knit and his jaw flexes lightly as his voice changes lightly in timbre. Some of the students shifting unknowingly in their seats. 

It's a reaction Will is oblivious to, but one as natural as a rabbit holding still when it hears the shifting of leaves. Recognition of a predator. "Which doesn't mean she doesn't feel pain..." His voice causing more students to shift in their seats, sounding as if he's smothering a pleased laugh. "It just means she can't -do- anything about it." His voice, now, a near whisper as he looked up to the picture of the woman laying in a pool of her own blood displayed by the projector. "This is my design." 

Will blinks and reaches up, pulling the glasses from his face as he clicked the button of the small remote to change pictures to the blood spattered alarm face. He cleans the lenses with a corner of his shirt and continued without looking. His profile to the room, brows lifted before switching the still to the next which is of the power and phone lines that had an obvious tap on them. 

"He recorded Mrs. Marlow's conversation with the security company." Shifting back to face the students again, t show the rest of the crime scene photos. Ending on one of Mr. Marlow's blood soaked shirt. Will didn't even look or seem to realize that he was shuffling through them with a few second between. "And this is where it gets truly horrifying for Mrs. Marlow." 

He turned his profile to the picture. Taking a moment to shake off the whisper of the killer. He could already feel that familiar pressure behind his eyes. The weight of the asprin bottle in his pocket promise of relief from it. "Everyone has thought of killing someone, one way or another," Turning and addressing the attentive students, "Be it by your hand or the hand of God. Now think about killing Mrs. Marlow." He pressed the remote again and showed a picture of the attractive woman framed by her own blood. "Why did she deserve this? Tell me your design." Setting the remote to one side and closing his laptop. 

"Tell me who you are." 

Will grabs his bag and stills. He can see a figure in his peripheral. Off to his right at one of the room entrances. No...no it simply couldn't be. He was here for a student. Of course. Yes, that was certainly it. 

Students shuffling out as he slides the laptop in his bag. He pointedly keeps his eyes down and gives off airs of 'unapproachable' to ward off students and their questions. This wasn't this kind of class. He didn't have office hours and most of his students knew he wasn't one of those kind of teachers. 

He slid his glasses on as the baritone voice sounded. "Mr. Graham." His hand began to tremble again and his headache was beginning to pulse with some intensity. It was nothing compared to the cold clench of his abdominal muscles. "Special Agent Jack Crawford, I head the Behavioral Science Unit." They were already shaking hands. Tedious...social niceties. Will kept it brief. All he wanted now was to drink himself into dreamless sleep. 

"We've met." Said with a twitch of snide smirk to his lips...though his tone remained uninterested. 

"Yes. We had a disagreement when we opened up the museum-" 

"I disagreed with what you named it." The answer was off his tongue before he could bite it back. He kept stuffing his things into the bag. Head now throbbing. 

"The..uh...Evil Minds Research Museum." Jack was watching him and Will already knew why. Already knew Jack's games and tricks. Dear God...this was ridiculous. It couldn't...really be the same conversation they'd had before. Could it? 

"It's a little hammy, Jack." Oh Jesus. Was Jack really here for this? For those girls? The Golden Ticket? His stomach lurched at the memory of Abigail. Of sweet blue eyes that hid so much behind them. His heart ached in his chest. 

"So, you've hitched your horse to a teaching post and I also understand it's difficult for you to be social." Jack loved to play the fool, but the confident set of his shoulders already spoke to Will that he knew everything he was goading at. Same old Jack. 

"Well I'm talking at them not listening to them. It's...not social." Will reached up and pushed his own glasses up before Jack could reach forward and do it for him. But Will saw his hand already raised to do so. "I see." The hand fell back to it's rest on the podium. "Where do you fall on the spectrum?" 

Asshole! Will's teeth bore down and popped softly for the effort of the grind. The corners of his jaws flexing as the tendons there shifted, flared in indignation. "My horse is hitched to a post that is closer to Aspergers and Autistics than narcissists and sociopaths. What do you want, Jack? Why are you here?" Squaring off against the taller African American man. He would not let this conversation that the same route it had before about Jack digging into Will about his empathy. 

Jack set his hands on either side of the podium and looked at Will with intent. "I'd like to...borrow your imagination." 

Oh God... 

\- - - 

Will and Jack walked, Jack spouted off about missing girls, the eighth tagged just before Jack Crawford had come knocking on his proverbial door. Will dry swallowed a pair of asprin and couldn't believe he was doing this. He could walk away. He should. It was the same...The faces staring back at him. So very Mall of America. So much wind-chaffed skin. 

Will needed to think but Jack wasn't going to allow it. Jack was good at that, invoking a need to please him. Manipulative bastard. Will could give him the name. Could name this Minnesota Shrike right now and close the case. Save Abigail and her mother both with one well timed raid. Will stared out the window as they drove to Elise Nichols house. Deep in thought and contemplation. 

Was Hobbs still employed at that little site right now? He could guide them to take him before he put in his notice. Before he forgot his address on that form. Reaching up and pressing his thumb and forefinger into the corners of his eyes. Jack would never buy Will just giving out a name. It was too much. 

What the hell was he thinking? This whole damn situation was too much! This was crazy! Maybe...maybe Will already had encaphilitis? Maybe he was going crazy? But...if he was then his surroundings weren't actually happening. Maybe he was locked away in a secure and padded cell giving himself a very secured embrace. 

Will remembered his last embrace. 

The SUV came to a halt and Will and Jack got out. Will needed...something. Anything. God...the girl was already tucked in bed. His eyes shooting up to the window he could see was opened. The cat, his lips twitched up in a pale mockery of a smile, would be scratching at the door. 

He listened as Jack spoke to the parents. Will watched as they spoke with such hesitating hope. She wasn't a bad girl, she stayed home. She may fit the profile but that didn't mean anything. It couldn't happen to their little girl? Maybe she just skipped town for a bit? Pressures at school bearing down on such young shoulders? Will had to look away, cutting off the flow from the two with the action and glanced to Jack. He put up the face of respective concern. Giving all the right cues to keep them talking. 

"How's the cat?" Asked the moment they'd finished talking. It was the mother that responded and Will didn't have to fake looking exhausted and awkward. 

"Oh, hows your cat? E-Elise was supposed to feed it. Was it...w-weird when you came home?" Will could feel the heavy weight of Jack's eyes on him. Judging. "It must have been hungry. It didn't eat all weekend." It was the thread that wouldn't have Jack questioning Will going upstairs to see the room. To find the body. 

God his head hurt. This was...beyond the realm of possibility. Maybe he was still dreaming? Wouldn't be the first time that had happened. 

Jack excused them and waited for Will to explain the thread he'd been offered. Will's voice hushed to keep from being over heard. "He took her from here. She got on a train, she came home, she fed the cat...and he took her." It was enough, he kept his eyes trained on the strong, mocking cut of Jack's jaw. Looking down when Jack called up his contact to announce the house a crime scene. 

Will held up his hand after he'd asked to go to see Elise's room. Knowing the father would stand. "Please...just directions." He nodded as they were given and he pulled on his surgical gloves he'd stuffed in his pockets before he even reached the top step. 

Opening the room and letting in the cat as he looked to the body so delicately tucked in. He would save her father this last look...so he wouldn't be haunted. Haunted like Will was now haunted. "Hobbs...you sick fuck...I won't let you kill her." 

\- - - 

Jack closed the door behind him. Knowing Will preferred to be alone to walk through the crime scene. Jack didn't give a damn how or what method Will used. So long as he came back with answers. 

Will sat on the edge of the bed. Head in his hands. He didn't need to see. "See? See?" The whisper of memory tracing his peripheral vision like black fog and whispered promises no man could grasp hold of. It made his blood run cold and the hairs at the back of his neck stand up. It wasn't a ghost, this time. Hobbs was still alive at this point. Will hadn't...Will hadn't killed him... 

Standing slowly, Will turned to look down at the body. He remembered being Hobbs when he strangled the life from the sleeping girl. How good it had felt. The memory made Will sick, sweat already forming light across his brow and neck. He was so lost in that memory that he didn't hear the door open. 

"You're Will Graham!" He jerked back to awareness. Chocking back the sob as he looked at the still-living Beverly Katz. "You wrote the standard monograph on time of death by insect activity." She smiled as she looked at him. Will knew it to be an open, pure curiosity and admiration. His frame jerking as he tried to keep himself from releasing the scream that was swelling in his chest. He could still see her body cut into slides and displayed. Hannibal had done that. Hannibal. 

This was suddenly very complicated. He couldn't just save Abigail and her mother. He'd have to save Bev. Jesus. -...I gave you a rare gift...- No, can't lose focus, Bev was entirely too perceptive. 

"You..uh...you not real FBI?" Beverly looked at his lack of ID. He let out a breathless beginning of a laugh. "I'm a...special investigator." Replied with a self depreciating tone. 

"Never been an FBI Agent?" Beverly never let anything go. God he wanted to hug her. He scowled softly at the urge and shook his head. "They, um, strict...screening procedures..." That little shot a constant reminder for him. Unstable. Beverly had said that too. 

"Detects instability. You unstable?" Jack walked in and scolded Bev, who would never back down when she had the scent of something. The antler velvet, in this case. Will looked away and walked to the window as Zeller and Price walked in as well. Only speaking to make them understand that Hobbs was putting the girl back because he couldn't honor her. That this was an apology. 

His head was beyond pounding by now. "Does anyone have any asprin?" 

\- - - 

The trip back home was long. Longer because when Jack dropped him off at the school Will looked at his car for a few moments. A soft smile touching at his features as he got in and began to drive. It was tonight. His trip back to Wolf Trap...Winston. 

He could see the dog running, rope around his neck in a makeshift leash. And the damn dog still wouldn't approach him without the promise of the hot dog. He laughed softly and quickly stopped off at the gas station and bought the pack quickly. 

He sat there. Looking at Winston as the dog looked up with him with wise, intelligent eyes. Will's own eyes brimmed with tears. At least some part of this...nightmare was something to look forward to. 

Back home, he began washing Winston, who always had a knack for mud and used a blow dryer to get him dry, knowing a chill could do quite the number on a dog's health. A tall glass of whiskey in his hand as he would introduce Winston to everyone from the kennel. To make sure there would be no fights or injuries. So they could meet and become friends in a safe way. "Everyone this is Winston. Winston...this is everyone. Again." 

Whiskey burned with hot purpose down his throat and settled in his stomach. He'd eaten a few of the hot dogs so it wasn't on an empty stomach. Hannibal would have raised one of those wispy eyebrows in a show of disapproval. His hand settling over the left side of his abdomen. It still ached. Like a man with no leg complaining about his foot itching. There was no wound...but it hurt. 

He drank half the bottle before settling down for sleep. In dreams, he replayed Hannibal killing him again and again. Like a bad movie kept on repeat or a skipping record. He didn't dream of the impaled corpse of Elise Nichols. He still woke up drenched in sweat and soaking through the sheets. 

A frustrated laugh as he got up and grabbed the towels. Putting one down and pulling the shirt off his narrow frame. Tossing it aside before using the other towel like a blanket. Curling up tightly and shivering harshly. He was so tired of ruined sheets. 

He laid there, shivering and thinking. Watching events fall into place. Finally able to think without the pressure of the world bearing down on him. Without events having to be dropped in place like tumblers of a lock. What was this? Was it a second chance? And why? Could he put himself through it all again? Through the sickness, through Doctor Lecter, through Abigail and everything else? 

Will didn't want to think about those who had died. Those he could possibly now save. It was too much. He wanted to sleep away the day but knew that today Jack would decide to put him back in the field. God...he would have to face...him... 

\- - - 

The men's bathroom. Christ did Jack pick the worst times to be predictable. He soaked his face in the water of the sink and jerked back when the image of blood came to his mind's eye. Wiping his face dry as Jack walked in. Will didn't even have the energy to look surprised. Didn't have energy for much else. It seemed that while his mind knew what was coming, it still gave him the grisly images of before. 

"What are you doing in here?" 

"I enjoy the smell of urinal cake." Jack was humming with energy, it was disconcerting. Tedious. 

"Me too, we need to talk." He paused as someone else walked in, hand on his fly before Jack's voice roared, "USE THE LADIES ROOM!" Will could imagine the man either didn't have to pee anymore or a pair of boxers would be lightly ruined after that. 

"Do you respect my judgement, Will?" 'God, Jack, you really need to figure out a better way of getting the world to bow to your whims.' Will thought, thought but didn't say. Instead he nodded and gave a noise of affirmation. 

"Good. Because we will stand a better chance of catching this guy with you in the saddle." It took every ounce of willpower to keep from laughing, knowing Jack would likely not take it well. "Yeah, I'm in the saddle...Just, um...confused which direction I'm pointing." 

Will pushed and continued, recycled words. "I don't know this kind of psychopath. I've never read about him. I don't even know if he's a psychopath, he's not insensitive! He's not shallow!" Will looked off to the right...and saw a faded, familiar outline of a figure. 'Not dead yet enough to haunt me. Not yet.' His mind was trying to keep ahold of old images and the ones they were used to. Used to when he was clean of the infection probably already snaking through his grey matter. 

"You know something about him. Otherwise you wouldn't have said that this is an apology. What is he apologizing for?" Will, paced, gesturing sharply as he ignored the figure and tried to make Jack understand. Not an easy feat. 

"He couldn't honor her. He feels bad." 

"Well, feeling bad defeats the purpose of being a psychopath, doesn't it?" 

Will raked a hand through his hair. He was already starting to sweat. "Yes, it does!" He felt threads being pulled away from him, opening seams. Jack's voice already raised again. "Then what kind of crazy is he!?" 

Will took a breath. Jesus. He forgot how hard Jack pressed him when they first started their little agreement. Pushed hard and settled guilt on his shoulders like a mantle. "He couldn't show her he loved her, so he put her corpse back where he killed it. Whatever kind of crazy that is." 

"You think he loved these girls." Jack pressed further and Will considered buying stock in asprin to maybe save some money down the road. 

"He loves one of them," Abigail..."And yes, by association he has some form of love for the others." 

"There was no semen. There was no saliva. Elise Nichols died a virgin. She stayed that way." 

Will was already shaking his head. Even he was disgusted by the jump in logic. He'd been so close to Hobbs he felt offended for the man. "That's not how he's loving them! He wouldn't disrespect them that way! He doesn't want these girls to suffer. He kills them quickly and..." Will could feel his mind slipping. He took a quick second to pull himself back. God, everything was different...he could feel the edges of his mind all tattered like an abused cloth rag. "To his thinking with mercy." 

"Sensitive psychopath. Risked getting caught so he could tuck Elise Nichols back into bed." 

"He has to take the next girl soon." Will had to get hold of himself, but he was unable to keep the truth from his tongue. "Cause he knows he's gonna get caught. One way or the other..." 

Will knew exactly how that way was going to be. 

\- - - 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never realized how gratifying having someone outside from my realm of contacts enjoy anything I write. It's really quite stunning. I'm a creature of feedback, so if you've a spare moment and you enjoyed. Put a unique emoticon as a comment (or a comment!).


	3. Echoes of Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some echoes carry more pain that others. Will finds that he must walk old roads before he can start seeking the unexplored branching trails. The soft sounds of hooves in the dust trailing after him.

Ah, the crime lab.

The tart scent of Purell and cleaners and cleansers making it as bad as, if not worse than, a hospital. High ceilings with good ventilation in case of noxious fumes or fires. Fridges holding all sorts of interesting bottles, dishes, and one of Price's apple juice boxes. Counters and adjustable lights and the autopsy table. Cold, gleaming steel and currently the bed of Elise Nichols. 

Will stood off to one side, arms folded as he kept his gaze from lingering anywhere for too long. Kept it from the morgue doors where shadows were playing in his peripheral view. He didn't offer to help Zeller and Price with the body as they unzipped the body bag it resided in. Beverly was already moving forward, anxious to get started. 

Price put his hands down and let out an audible sigh. "Okay...Tried her skin for prints. Of course, nothing. We did get a hand spread off her neck..." He looked off at the paperwork still in crisp manila folders. 

"Reports say anything about nails?" Beverly loved body tissue. Will remembered them having a beer after the Angel Maker case and her telling him that body tissue was the nail in many a killer's coffin. That wry grin on her face before she tanked the beer and tipped his to make him follow suit. 

Was that a memory? Or Will telling the future? Reaching up and scrubbing his fingertips along his jaw. Damn, he needed to shave but he hated the looks he got when he did. He suffered with perpetual scruff because it was better than those looks. 

"Fingernails were smudged when we took the scrapings. Scrapings were from her own palms when she scratched them. She never scratched him." Zeller piped up in answer, Will was only barely listening. 

"Piece of metal is all we got." Beverly sounded displeased about that. 

Will let out a soft snort, "We should be looking up plumbers, steam fitters, tool workers..." Garret Jacob Hobbs. Will was trying hard not to just give it all up. He had to lead them, make them see the evidence when he needed them to. 'See? See?' Will turned his head to the right, brows furrowing in a deep scowl as he knew it was just the echo of a voice. 

He watched from the corner of his eye as the shadow figure slid along the walls, taunting him. He stopped paying the three techs any mind as he followed it with his eyes. Could almost feel it grinning at him as it's hand slid across the cheek of the dead girl. "Sweet girl..." 

"Other injuries were probably, but not conclusively postmortem. So....NOT gored." Zeller looking smug. Will shook his head, running his palm from brow to chin in an attempt to keep focused. 

"She has lots of piercings that look like they were caused by deer antlers. I didn't say the deer was responsible for putting them there." Beverly's tone meant to make Zeller feel like an idiot. Will would put money down that it probably worked. Probably only because Zeller was a prick. 

Time to make them see. "She was mounted on them." Turning all three heads to look at him, but his eyes were safely locked on the figure of Elise. Eyes losing focus as he saw what Hobbs saw. "Like hooks..." He couldn't afford to lose himself in Hobbs again. "She may have been bled." 

"Her liver was removed." Will listened to Zeller point out the obvious. Not wanting to think about the next epiphany he would hand them. "See that? He took it out and then...yeah, he put it back in." 

Will watched their confused faces. Like they'd been handed round pegs and they could only see square holes. "Why would he...cut it out if he was just gonna sew it back in again?" Price was smart in many areas, reading between the lines not among them. 

"Something wrong with the meat." He didn't need to fake the sick bobbing of his Adam's apple as he swallows the sudden swell of saliva in his mouth. The sour taste of bile dancing across his pallet. 

Will looked to Zeller, well, at about his hair line when he turned and looked at Will over his shoulder. "She has liver cancer." 

Will offered a smile to Zeller then, it was a tenuous thing. Fragile as gossamer as he nodded his head almost imperceptibly. "Yeah...he's...uhm...he's eating them." 

\- - - 

Will drove home and immediately greeted the pack. He was pleased to see Winston at it's head. He knew the intelligence and patience the dog demonstrated would put him at it's lead. Smiling as he knelt down and greeted each with affection due; belly rubs and ear scritches. Each adoring it's moments in the light of their Master. He needed this. They were his anchor in chaos now. 

Will stood and let out a sharp, shrill whistle and gestured out with one hand. Offering the pack free reign in the yard to run. He walked out after them and picked up a tennis ball from it's perch on a lone fence post and hurled it out into the fields of Wolf Trap. The dogs chewing up the earth in efforts to get to it first. 

This would be the last day he would have off of the radar of Hannibal Lecter. His last chance to run. He wouldn't, couldn't. Running a hand over his abdomen as Buster brought the ball back, only to have Will throw it off again. 

It hurt, echoes of pain. He remembered the look on his face when he gazed down at Will as he bled out. There could have been more. It could have been amazing. Just Hannibal, Will and Abigail touring the world...none would stand before them and none would ever come between them. Will had admitted to himself the moment that Hannibal looked at him with what Will could only describe as heartbreak when Will entered the home. It sealed the fact that Hannibal would have to hurt him. 

Will saw the hesitation, but he knew he'd already hurt the man too deeply to avoid it. 

The ideal flirted at the edges of his mind. He could make it right...hell, Will was already molded by Hannibal's hand. Post Chrysalis. He wondered what the good doctor would do with him now? Of course, he had to make sure of several things. 

Avoid certain events, make sure certain ones took place. Not to mention Will couldn't predict the outcomes of his meddling. He would, at some point, be playing blind. Fumbling in the dark and hoping not to smash a knee into the corner of a table...or fall on the knife. He would have to try to fool Hannibal Lecter. Yay. 

Hands in his pockets as he watched the fields without seeing them. Standing there in quiet dusk as he considered the depths of his emotion for the man. His friend. His only friend. Jack would resist anything Will brought him that wasn't concrete proof. Will could always abscond with a bite of food and give it to Jack for testing...proof that Hannibal was feeding people...people. 

Did he want to? Or did he want the chrysalis Hannibal would whisper into to crack open and he finally become what Hannibal wanted him to be. The realization of potential. He was going to have to choose. Again. 

\- - - 

Will walked up to the FBI Academy armed with a very tall plastic cup of coffee so strong it made his toes curl when he took a sip. This day...he was not looking forward to. Even at the end when he and Hannibal sat across from each other and spoke at long hours he never felt like he could ever actually manipulate the man. He was careful to never out right lie. Knowing it would be spotted in a moment. 

Now he was going to have to sit across from the man himself and try to convince him that he didn't know Hannibal Lecter was the Chesapeake Ripper and meeting him but for the first time? Christ...he was going to end up as cutlets before the day was done. Maybe he could beg to be served with that cranberry sauce that Hannibal made for him once. Convinced the man had sold his soul for the recipe. 

Walking through the halls towards his office where he dropped off his bag and coat. He only just sat down before Jack leaned in. "Come with me." God help him. 

He adjusted his denim button down and slid his fingers through his hair and along his jaw. He felt like some scruffy boy playing at games he had no business putting his grubby hands on. Here we go. 

He followed and stopped in the doorway of Jack's office. Sitting there was the very pristine figure of one Hannibal Lecter M.D. "Special Agent Will Graham, meet Doctor Hannibal Lecter." Jack gestured between them and Will's cheeks shifted as he tried to smile, eyes cast at Jack's desk before flicking once to the maroon eyes of Hannibal. Just an instant to not be rude. Christ, he'd have to make sure he kept his tongue curbed until Hannibal became interested or he'd never survive this. 

Dismissed as just as quickly as his name had been offered, thank God. As Hannibal stood and followed back to the map and pin board. Will lowered himself into the chair, hands on his knees as he tried to keep his breathing regular. A panic attack would raise far, far too many questions right now. 

How could Jack not see the Monster sliding beneath the flesh of the man? How had he missed it? How had Jack missed that dark Enemy in his own flesh? 

"Tell me, then. How many confessions?" That smooth accent bidding Jack answer, Will assumed they'd been talking about the case before he arrived. His palms sweating as he perpetually rubbed them over his knees. Trying to ignore the sharp throb in his abdomen...where ghosts of wounds remained. 

"Twelve dozen, last time I checked. None of them had any details. Until this morning and then they all had details." Will couldn't help but look at the back of the man who'd single-handedly given him everything and took it all away. His heart hammering in his chest, beating against his ribs as if to break free. "Some genius in Duluth P.D. took a photograph of Elise Nichols' body with a cell phone, shared it with his friends and then Freddie Lounds posted it on Tattle Crime Dot Com." 

Will only just kept himself from openly sneering. "Tasteless." A comment meant more for himself than the benefit of the others in the room. 

"Do you have trouble with taste?" Will turned his head, making a mock of turning as if to look at the man asking the question. A trickle of sweat down the back of his neck. 

"My thoughts are often not tasty." His jaw flexed, he had to bait the monster. He felt like he might puke. 

"Nor mine. No effective barriers." 

"I build forts." Lifting the coffee cup he'd insisted Jack provide, he had to keep some part of himself occupied. It was hot and bitter across his tongue. Damn if he couldn't help but long for Hannibal's own perfectly blended roasts. 

"Associations come quickly." The Doctor offered as he returned to his seat beside Will. Will held up the cup and offered a sardonic grin. "So do forts." 

Hannibal also lifted his own cup as Jack moved to give them a bit of privacy. He was hoping Hannibal would ground Will. Christ, was it funny or tragic that it started this way? 

"Not fond of eye contact, are you?" Hannibal regarded Will openly and it took everything he had not to shrink. His stomach was on fire under that sanguine gaze. 

Will only hoped his voice wasn't as shaky as it sounded to him as he took a breath and let it out to settle himself. "Eyes are distracting. See too much...don't see enough. And-and it's hard to focus when you're thinking, um, 'Are those whites really white?' Or 'He must have hepatitis!' Or 'Oh, is that a burst vein?'" Playing into the tiny tirade and unable to keep the corners of his mouth twitching in a smile. 

He ached at this loss. Hannibal never backed away from his crass words or dark observations. He let out a chuckle that Will wondered if he intended to give. Will let the humor drain from him with a frown. "So, yeah. I try to avoid eyes whenever possible." Turning back to the papers on the case as if to dismiss Hannibal. "Jack." 

Hoping the man couldn't sense fear. He probably could. He was so fucked. 

"I imagine what you see and learn touches everything else in your mind. Your values and decency are present yet shocked at your associations. Appalled at your dreams. No thoughts in the bone arena in your skull for the things you love." 

Will stared at the lips moving and offering such verbal blows as to cripple him. It was punishment for his dismissal and...peacocking. A flash of feather as Hannibal, who Will assumed figured the report on his empathy disorder was only a fallacy or misdiagnosis. Only to find that the more he considered Will...the less likely that seemed. 

The severe expression on Will's face remained. Even in the beginning Hannibal knew him. Knew him the moment he'd spoken. He almost forgot to respond. "Whose profile are you working on?" The humorless laugh edging into his words before he turned accusingly to Jack. "Whose profile is he working on?" He kept his voice firm but not loud. 

Jack had the gall to look at a paper without interest. 

"I'm sorry, Will. Observing is what we do. I can't shut mine off anymore than shut yours off." 

"Please...don't psychoanalyze me. You wouldn't like me when I'm psychoanalyzed." Will lamented that Hannibal wouldn't get the reference. But it was meant more for Jack, to clearly indicate how unhappy he was. 

"Will..." 

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go give a lecture. On psychoanalyzing." 

Will all but ran from the room. Leaving the coffee behind with the two occupants. He ducked into the men's room and slammed open one of the stall doors and bowed over the toilet. Stomach heaving and in agony, though it was fading. Sweat sliding down his temples and neck and beginning to only just show through his shirt. 

That was...terrifying. 

Will's body was trembling like a newborn colt as he resisted the urge to kneel down and hug the chilly porcelain. Public restroom. Not going to happen. Instead he got the tap running full and icy and soaked his face and a few paper towels to wipe at his neck and jaw. 

Slow breaths as he did the same thing with dry ones and looked up at the mirror. Blue eyes staring back at him. "You can do this...Just long enough...just have to stick through it..." Sighing and bowing his head, even holding his own eye contact right now was hard. Just long enough for what? 

Stitching himself back together was harder than he thought. A battle of emotions warring between his heart and his stomach. Ghosts of joy at being accepted versus ghosts of agony at having his world ripped apart...along with his stomach. He swallowed it all back. Straightened and slid his glasses back on as he exited and made his way towards his class. 

\- - - 

Will stood back, eyes wide and lips parted. He hadn't forgotten what it was like being at one of Hannibal's Displays...horrified, tumultuous, like a maelstrom of earth and sky crashing and swirling around him. He simply wasn't feeling it. He remembered being horrified. 

He stood in the field of Hibbing, Minnesota and stared at the girl's body impaled on the stag's antlers. The sun rising in the east and casting wild shadows across the scene. Crows cawing angrily at Zeller who was having a damned time keeping them off the body they were so desperate to pick at. 

"The stag head was reported stolen last night about a mile from here." Jack was there. Jack was always there. 

"Just the head?" 

"Minneapolis Homicide's already made a statement. They're calling him the Minnesota Shrike." Jack stared at the body with cold determination. 

"Like the bird?" Play dumb, Will, come oooonnn...just play dumb. 

"Shrike's a perching bird. Impales mice and lizards on thorny branches and barbed wire. Rips their organs right out of their bodies. Puts them in a little birdie pantry and eats them later." Jimmy Price, a diet version of Will's inability to make friends. He could at least hold his tongue. Will never could. 

"Can't tell whether it's sloppy or shrewd." God, Jack was so dense. How could they -not see-?! 

"He wanted her found this way. This...is...petulant. I almost feel like he's mocking her. Or he's mocking us." Will crouched, unable to take his eyes off of it. Struggling to keep himself bottled and sealed. He needed to get out of here...but he needed Jack to know more. 

"Where did all of his love go?" 

"Whoever tucked Elise Nichols into bed didn't paint this picture." 

Zeller sounded sick, "He took her lungs." His voice breaking and his hands trembling just a bit. "I'm pretty sure she was alive when he did it." 

"Our cannibal loves women. He doesn't want to destroy them, he wants to consume them. To keep some part of them inside. This girl's killer thought that she was a -pig-." Will was already walking away. Breath, hold it all in, just a little while longer. 

"You think this was a copycat?" 

"The cannibal who killed Elise Nichols had a place to do it and no interest in...in field kabuki. So, he has a house or two or a, uh, cabin? Or something with an antler room. He has a daughter...same age as the other girls. Same-same...hair color, same eye color, same height, same weight...She's an only child..." They would read his need to get away as disgust...good. He needed them to. Fear...Abigail...oh Abigail... "She's leaving home. He can't -stand- the thought of losing her. She's his Golden Ticket." 

"What about the copycat?" 

Will was retreating again...but hesitated and took two steps towards Jack. "You know, an intelligent psychopath, particularly a sadist, is very hard to catch. There's no traceable motive, there'll be no patterns, he may never kill this way again. Have Doctor Lecter draw up his psychological profile, you seem veeery impressed with his opinion." 

Will finally fled. Throwing his rental car into gear and breaking a few traffic laws, maybe even a few laws of physics as well as he raced to his hotel room. Fumbling at the door, hands shaking so bad he only got the key in through dumb luck. Stumbling inside and collapsing down onto the floor the second he did. 

Huge sucking breaths drawn in as he curled up. Teeth gritted so hard they popped as he clutched his hands into his head and pulled as if to tear his hair out. He'd looked at that body. Looked at that Display...and felt the cold strings of love plucking at his heart. 

Hannibal had put it there just for him. Gift-wrapped. Will had never looked at a Display of Hannibal's with the echoes of his final dreams haunting him. Those words mocked him now.. "I gave you a rare gift...but you didn't want it." 

"I do...God help me...yes I do..." Will leaned forward until his forehead touched the carpet and finally allowed his emotions to break over him like a surf. Shattering him as nothing more than brittle glass against the rocky shores. He had no anchor here. No dogs. No Doctor to ground him just yet. 

He broke. 

Two hours passed before Will was able to force the pieces back together. He had no other choice. He could not let Hannibal warn Hobbs about the FBI knowing about him. Jack would never sign off on just having the files of the pipe threaders mailed out. Had to be hand packed and delivered to make sure there was no tampering. 

And Will would never get away with trying to side track Hannibal from joining him on the trip to get them. Will sat down in the chair beside the window, poured a glass of whiskey and tossed it back before pouring another. 

"Guess...that just leaves Option C, Will." Said down at the glass before he lifted it to his lips and sipped. Best not to have a hangover. He was expecting company in the morning. 

Standing and draining the glass as he made his way towards the bathroom. He needed a damn shower. Pulling off his clothes and leaving them in a pile at the door as he turned the water to near scalding...or as close as cheap hotel room shower could manage and lamented the lack of water pressure with a petulant sigh. Better than nothing. 

He turned his head as he heard a low pop. Then another and pulled the curtain back in a quick motion. Standing there, water pouring over too pale, too lean a form and his hair clinging to his face as he looked at the muddy eyes of the Feathered Stag. 

His lips pulling up in a smile, a real smile as they watched each other from opposite sides of the bathroom door. The Stag...that knowing being that stood as the connection between Will and Hannibal...the thing he watched die now stood before him looking youthful and very much alive. 

Approval shining in those endless depths. 

\- - - 

Three knocks. Firm, authoritative and demanding an answer sounded in the black hotel room. Will tossed the covers aside and moved for the door. He'd shaved the night before, before his shower. Before the Stag and pulled the door open. It was irritatingly bright and Will looked at Hannibal with bleary eyes. Barely shaking the sleep from his mind. 

"Good morning, Will. May I come in?" 

Just once he wanted to see Hannibal with mussed hair, in a pair of boxers and having his sleep bothered. Images of Hannibal tucked in bed in an obnoxiously plaid suit almost had him laugh. He stuck with the blank look of a zombie, in favor of it. "Where's Crawford." Looking around as if to hope the man just fetching the last bit of something from an SUV. 

"Deposed in court. The adventure will be yours and mine today. May I come in?" Will just gave him an unimpressed look and walked back in, but left the door open. It was all the invitation the man would get before 9 am. Will didn't have to fake being shitty in the mornings. That just came naturally. 

"I'm very careful about what I put into my body. Which means I end up preparing most meals myself. A little protein scramble to start the day." Hannibal removed the lid and handed the bowl to Will. Who tried his very hardest not to burst into tears at the divine scents that came up from the bowl. "Some eggs, some sausage." Of course...he knew what the sausage was. Well, his head tilted a bit as he tried to figure out WHO it was. Not lung. Hmm. 

Will stabbed up a bite of sausage and took the bite. "Oh. That's delicious. Thank you." The compliment came easily. The acceptance of what he was eating wasn't. 

"My pleasure." 

Of course, Will had gotten over his aversion to the idea of cannibalism when he willingly consumed Randall Tier. It hadn't been easy then...but Hannibal was simply that good of a cook. Now? He began dishing the contents onto the plate before all but snatching the thermos of coffee and pouring as much as he could into the cup without looking rude. 

"I would apologize for my analytical ambush but I know I will be apologizing again and you will tire of that eventually. So, I have to consider using apologies sparingly." 

"Just keep it professional." Will almost cut him off with that. His only saving grace is that...he'd done this before. 

"Or we could socialize like adults. God forbid we become friendly." 

"I don't find you that interesting." 

Hannibal looked up, Will glanced at him before going to take a drink of the glorious coffee. The cup pausing at his lips as Will realized the mistake. Lie. Hannibal was watching him very, very closely. 

"You will." 

Will forgot to breath, Hannibal was too polite to point out the lie. "Jack tells me you have a knack for the monsters?" It was meant to needle him and it worked. 

So, Will would give Hannibal what he really wanted. 

"I don't think the Shrike killed that girl in the field." A taste, something to whet the appetite that he knew was churning behind the Doctor's mask. 

"The devil is in the details. What didn't your copycat do to the girl in the field. What gave it away?" 

"Everything." Will almost laughed. Rubbing a hand across his mouth as he glanced outside. Recalling the swelling song of emotions in his chest when he'd seen the Display. "It's like he had to show me a negative so I could see the positive, it..." He sighed and scrubbed his hands up and down his face. "It was like that crime scene was practically gift-wrapped." 

"The mathematics of human behavior. All those ugly variables. Some bad math with this Shrike fellow, huh?" Will was already pouring out another cup of coffee. "Are you reconstructing his fantasies? What kind of problems does he have?" 

Will would have missed the keen interest had he not been watching for it. Hannibal's mask had flaws, but only just. 

"He has a few..." Sarcastic as he took a drink of the coffee. A soft groan of appreciation in his throat...that he didn't realize he'd made. 

"Ever have any problems, Will?" 

Will put a hand to his chest and put on a fake confused expression. "Nooo.." 

"Course you don't. You and I are just alike. Problem free. Nothing about us to feel horrible about." The pause was left untouched. "You know, Will? I think Uncle Jack sees you as a fragile little teacup. The finest china only used for special guests." 

Will laughed. It was a strange sound, genuine though almost alien as he shook his head and leaned back. He forgot Hannibal could do that. Gallows humor as dark as Will's own. Will knew the answer to this...but wanted to hear it again. "How do you see me?" 

Hannibal's smile faded as he looked at Will. Once Will shifted uncomfortably under that intensity. "The mongoose I want under the house when the snakes slither by." Will's grin faded as he drank more of the coffee. 

Pulling his plate back to him as Hannibal ordered he finish his breakfast. Tucking in. Quiet companionable silence between them. Only the sounds of cutlery against plates. "You make the best coffee I've ever had." Will said, head bowed over his plate before he lifted the cup back up. Eyes glancing up for a moment, focusing on the opposite man's jaw right under the ear. 

"I use fresh, imported beans, my own grinder and a proper brewing method. Coffee is a simple delight and doesn't need the complications to make it something it's not." Uncharted territory. Will considered before finishing his cup. 

"I could get used to this." 

Hannibal glanced up to Will, eyes crinkling just slightly in a smile that didn't touch his face otherwise. Will was already standing and taking the empty plate to rinse off before returning it to it's owner with a nod. "I'll get dressed." 

Taking his clothes and closing the bathroom door behind him as he leaned back against it. Next came the pipe threading office. Where everything went to Hell. 

It was time to save Abigail Hobbs. 

\- - - 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly hope that you're smiling by the time you get to this point.


	4. Ripples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ripples across a pond and bad book keeping.

Will had stepped out of the bathroom, now fully dressed and using the edge of his shirt to clean the lenses on his glasses as he made for the door. Hannibal had already packed up the now empty dishes into the bag they'd brought them in and held out the last offering of the coffee in his own plastic coffee go cup.

They stood there a few moments, Will glancing up before his brows knit and he looked at the offered cup and took it with a murmured 'thank you'. He wanted to get to the car, wanted to get this over with. Hannibal was currently standing between him and the door. 

"I cannot help but notice, Will, that you are fairly humming with anticipation. Champing at the bit to get out into the sunlight. Almost as if you seem certain that today will allow you to put a name to our Shrike." The observation tore the breath from Will's throat as he slid the glasses onto his face. 

The tumblers of his lock suddenly seized and disjointed. His head turning to one side as he swallowed dry, his throat bobbing for the effort. Will would have to bleed something of himself into this to give the Doctor enough to get him to stand aside. "Perhaps it will, perhaps it won't. My champing at the bit has more to do with my lack of desire to be in an enclosed room with a psychiatrist who has been hired on to psychoanalyze me to put to ease the mind of a man almost so focused on a single necessary outcome that it borders just beyond 'healthy' obsession." Will took a breath and moved for the door, pausing only when Hannibal shifted to mirror the move and Will looked up at him. Really looked. 

He had been avoiding it since he 'woke' up. He didn't want to dip into the mind set that Hannibal had carved out of his flesh. Or did he simply peel away the flesh that Will had pinned it under in hopes it wouldn't surface? Hannibal's eyes were calculating just beneath the surface of a pool of maroon. Will knew that the Doctor was trying to decide if Will was interesting enough to see what could be done. If Will had the ambition to actually see him. 

"You are crowding me with observations meant to slice the hamstring. You point out what you know I deny and 'choose-not-to' face to make me do so. Tricky psychiatry, because it can just as easily force a subject to bury the observations farther." Will already knew it wasn't enough. Fine, he would give the man what he wanted. 

Will took a breath and slid into the black feathers of his mind. 

"To you, Doctor Lecter, I'm a ripple. You reach out and touch your finger to the pond and from that touch are born ripples. Dancing and gliding and running to the safety of the shore. Most die when they reach it...but you watch for the ones that turn and come sliding back to you to the dangers of deep water far from rocky shores. You're wondering which kind of ripple I am. Will I die on the shores or will I come sliding back to you?" 

Will's voice was lightly breathless by the time he finished. Reaching up and pushing index finger and thumb across his eyes. 

"Remarkable boy." 

Hannibal's words chased him as he was allowed to walk past and outside toward the rental car Jack had secured for Will. Climbing into the driver's seat and dry swallowing three asprin. He could feel the heavy gaze devouring him. Only opening his eyes when the Mazda shifted as Hannibal climbed in. 

Will put the car in gear and reversed before pulling out. He may already know the route, but he plugged the directions into his phone for directions regardless. Grateful for the silence from the psychiatrist who Will knew to be musing over Will's earlier words. 

Will pulled up to the double wide that stood in as the main office of the pipe threaders. The uneven driveway causing him to hold onto his plastic cup of coffee before taking the final drink of it. Setting it in the holder before putting the car in park. He dared a glance to the man beside him and remembered the smile. "What are you smiling at?" 

"Peeking behind the curtain. I'm just curious how the FBI goes about it's business when it's not kicking in doors." Will grinned slightly and shook his head as his eyes scanned the small building behind them. 

"You're lucky we're not doing house to house interviews." Will hated those, luckily Jack knew better than to put the abrasive empath in the path of the unsuspecting taxpayers of Minnesota. "We found a little piece of metal in Elise Nichols' clothes. A shred from a pipe threader." 

"Must be hundreds of construction sites, all over Minnesota." Hannibal was looking at him again. His lips pursed before Will shook his head slightly. 

"Well, certain kind of metal, certain kind of pipe, certain kind of pipe coating. So, we're checking all the construction sites that use that kind of pipe." 

"What are we looking for?" 

"At this stage, anything really. But mostly anything peculiar. We'll be bringing back files for Jack and others to pour over. Thrilling stuff." Will unbuckled his seat belt and let it slide up as he got out of the car and turned. Looking at the building for a few seconds until Hannibal stood with him. 

From there, it was mostly official. Show the ID and the warrant. Run over the poor woman to get at the files she was supposedly protecting. She was already on the phone by the time Will opened a filing cabinet and nodded for Hannibal to do the same. 

About an hour ticking by with the sounds of shuffling papers and stolen glances of the Doctor from his peripheral vision. 

Protests came in the form of questions and both men ignored her. Will glanced at the resignation letter that was missing the address, supplied by one Garrett Jacob Hobbs. Kept thumbing through the papers, trying to ignore the beads of sweat on his upper lip. 

"Okay, I think we have just about everything that we need. Doctor Lecter, will you help me with some of the files? Jack wanted everything brought in. Zeller and Price are at the two other sites and Beverly is doing interviews." Not lies, thank God. Will reached down and lifted two of the file boxes and looked pointedly at the woman and then the door. She got the hint and opened the door as the Doctor fell in step behind him. 

Once Will loaded up his two boxes, turned and headed back inside to grab two more. Walking them out and shutting the trunk. Helping Hannibal load the last two into the floorboards in back. Will shut the door and leaned against it. Almost done. 

He pulled his phone from his pocket, glancing at Hannibal with a touch of apology on his face before dialing the number for Crawford. "Jack? Yeah. Yes, we got the files. No, no trouble at all. Yes, I plan on dropping it all off on site. Yeah, call me when you land." With that, Will slid the phone away and looked to Hannibal. 

"You can come with me, if you want. Or I can drop you off at...wherever you're staying. Something tells me you opted out of the crappy hotel." 

Hannibal offered Will a slight grin, the barest showing of teeth. It made the pulse in his throat jump and a shiver run down his spine. "While it was generous of the FBI to offer to house me, I found the accommodations to be...lacking. I'm staying at Fitger's Inn in Duluth." Hannibal offered looking at Will over the hood of the car. They both looked out across the nothing that was Hibbing, Minnesota. 

Will chuckled softly and nodded his head. "I've got to get these files on site. Else I'll find myself impaled on the next stag head if Jack gets there before I do. I can always drop you off at your car and meet you at site?" Will watched as Hannibal's lips pursed in consideration. 

"That will work nicely, though I think I may retire to my own room for the evening. Thank you, Will." 

Both turned away from the other to get back into the Mazda. Will drove back, grateful for the lack of incident. "Will, you said that this copycat showed you a negative so you could see the positive. Is that all you saw?" Will shifted his grip on the steering wheel. Glancing over at Hannibal for the barest of seconds before eyes went back to the road. 

"Are you asking if I put myself in the killer's mind? Yes I did. And no...I don't want to talk about it." Will said as he pulled into the hotel and quickly exited the car. Making for his room, keys already in hand. "I'll meet you at the site. I just have to use the bathroom." Will was escaping and they both knew it. 

Hannibal was gracefully allowing it, for now. They both knew that, too. 

Once inside, he leaned against the door and waited until he heard the car door close, engine start and pull away. Will drew his hand down his face, knocking off his glasses before he sighed and remained there for the tick of at least a minute. Grabbing his glasses and heading back out. The Mazda turning out to the highway and off towards the site. 

Abigail Hobbs was still alive. Will just had to make sure he remained the same. 

\- - - 

Zeller and Price were both on site when Will pulled up. Both coming out and helped Will bring in the files, Will keeping his hands on the one that had the resignation letter from Hobbs. 

They all pooled into the larger room and took up various positions and began pouring through files. Beverly and Jack joining them before too long. Jack letting out a sigh and was looking haggard from his day in Court. "Doctor Lecter will not be joining us. He said one of his patients in Baltimore had an emergency." 

Will glanced up before back to the papers in his hands. "Hey Jack? This one is strange." Will checked a few more pages before coming back to it. "Garrett Jacob Hobbs? All the other resignation letters have addresses...and he missed work days at a time." Will handed the form up to Jack's waiting hand. 

Jack glared down at the offending file. "Time missed matches three of the disappearances. Works for me. I want this done right. If Mr. Hobbs is our Shrike, I don't want Hibbing PD slipping up because they're hunting buddies. Katz, Zeller...you're with me. Price, Graham. You two stay here and keep looking. You call me if anything comes up." 

Will let out a breath and leaned back after they left. Price just looking at him a bit strange before Will shifted slightly. "Sorry, didn't get much sleep." The other man just smiled and nodded and dug right back into his job. Content to keep to himself. 

Will just let his eyes close. Please work...please let her live. She would always be...different. Will knew she was involved with her father's 'work'. She was the lure. Maybe, just maybe her mother would shield her from Jack and she would be able to continue on. Away from Hannibal. Away from him. 

\- - - 

Will started at the sudden roar of his name. Sitting up and blinking away sleep. A glance over to Price, seeing a similar reaction told the whole story. They fell asleep. Which was practically a miracle in Will's case. Jack was already storming into the room, Katz and Zeller at his heels. One look and Jack knew they'd slept on the job. 

"We got our man." 

\- - - 

The press and media were in a frenzy. From what Will knew, Garrett Jacob Hobbs had been taken into custody for questioning for the murders of the Shrike Case. One look at Abigail and they knew. It was Abigail's confession that convicted her father. Teary eyed admissions to being bait and the horrors her father put her through enough for the FBI. 

The media was in an uproar over the atrocities. Cannibal Shrike Convicted. Eight counts of homicide enough to put him in with a death sentence. He would never be released. 

Abigail was heralded as much a victim as the girls that Hobbs had killed. Clever girl, she knew how to handle an opportunity given to her. 

He'd done it. 

Will sat on the front porch of his small home in Wolf Trap, watching his dogs run after a raccoon that had foolishly wandered too close to the house. A smile on his lips. Hobbs would die for his crimes, but far away and locked up tight. Abigail would be given the chance to live a life the way she'd never been able to. Her mother, Cynthia, Will learned, would be there for her daughter. 

He took a long drink of his whiskey and leaned his head back, looking down at Winston, who was laying beside him and watching the other dogs run as well. 

Will Graham had saved Abigail Hobbs. It was a bit anti-climatic, he wasn't involved in the spray of blood that forced Hannibal's hand to save the life of a girl they had both at one point considered a daughter. Now, she was beyond both of their reach. 

He just wished he wasn't considering the look of warning in the eyes of the Stag that stood proud on the rise that lead to the woods on his property. Blood may not have been spilled, but the Devil was still owed his due. 

\- - - 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes Episode 1. I would love to know what you all think of my little divergence. Short, yes, but a nice wrap to the first of my little sounders.
> 
> Kudos/Comments ever appreciated.
> 
> I've also been asked if I minded people posting this work on Tumblr/Twitter accounts and I do not, so long as it is in link for to AO3. 
> 
> See you next chapter.


	5. The Road Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two roads offered up and now that steps have fallen along the one that has a different course, does it change the players in the game? Or is it simply more of the same?

Chippewa National Forest was quite possibly the only thing Will and Hobbs would ever agree on. It was a beautiful location for a hunting lodge.

Will stood in front of the small cabin as Jack tore away the police tape and they entered. To Will, it felt like a victory and one that he relished. Eyes closed as he stood there for a moment and took in the ambiance. A smile touching on his lips before he flicked on the flashlight and swept it around the structure in Jack's wake. 

Ghosts of seeing Abigail standing there when blood dripped onto her brow were dashed as Will moved through it and sent it skittering to the shadows of his mind. He made his way towards the stairs. Drawn up as if by some outside force to the Shrike Nest. To the antler room. 

"Could be a permanent installation in your Evil Minds Museum." His voice sounding distant as he looked across the twisted wall of antlers. A touch of admiration in his voice in the precision of the displays. 

"Well, what we learn about Garret Jacob Hobbs will help us catch the next one like him. There's still seven bodies unaccounted for." Jack sounded smaller than usual and Will looked over to him for a moment. How strange it must be to have your first glimpse into such twisted bramble and horror that clung to the edges of a killer's mind. Will kept forgetting that as much as Jack made Will look, he would never understand what it meant to see. 

"He was eating them..." 

"There had to be some parts he wasn't eating." 

Will pursed his lips and made an innocent shrug, "Not necessarily." 

"Lets not forget Hobbs wasn't eating alone." Jack was quick to point out and Will thought about Abigail and Cynthia. Abigail was quick to spin her story into one where she was the victim. Will could appreciate, now, Abigail's penchant for manipulation. She would have had to manipulate her father, mother, children at school, teachers...the media shouldn't be more difficult than that. 

"No, he wasn't. He forced his daughter to play the lure or she would end up on his menu. Jack, let Abigail Hobbs go. She's gone through enough." Will said as he looked at the antlers and around. Crouching down as his flashlight swept over the floor and his head tilted to one side. 

He already knew what it was. Who it belonged to. Still, he reached forward and gently lifted the kinky red strand of hair and considered it. "Someone else was here." 

\- - - 

Will walked into the classroom to the sound of clapping. Students standing to offer him his laurels for being on the team that caught the Minnesota Shrike. It felt just as cheap and tawdry as the first time he'd bore witness to it. 

Keeping his head bowed and he put his bag on the desk. "Please stop that." He waited until it stopped before turning out the lights and bringing up the projector. Taking a slow breath and bringing up the image of the resignation letter that had sealed Hobbs' fate twice in his lifetime. 

"This is how we caught Garret Jacob Hobbs. It's his resignation letter. Does anyone see the clue?" Will turned and leaned back against the desk, looking across the shadowed faces. Several hands went up and Will tried not to shake his head. "There isn't one. He wrote a letter, left a phone number but no address. That's it. Bad book keeping and dumb luck." 

His next image was one of Hobbs in the back of the patrol car, looking straight ahead and slightly down. Will looked up and over his shoulder at the image of the man. Blinking when the head turned to regard him. "See? See?" Will shuddered at the new imagery before looking away once more. 

"Garrett Jacob Hobbs is in custody. The question now is how do we stop those his story is going to inspire? He's already got one admirer." Will pushed off the desk and clicked the remote. Revealing the body of Cassie Boyle impaled on the stag head. "A copycat." 

Hollow words, titles that didn't fit the man. Hannibal Lecter was so much more. So much more. 

Will continued along with the class, going over standards and procedures and how necessary it was to pay attention to the details. He was at his podium, putting everything away when he caught a glimpse of heart break. 

Alana Bloom. He'd nearly forgotten, old feelings crawled up his gullet. Lust, desire for something so sweet and simple. Unstable. And yet she'd let Hannibal touch that pale skin. Will almost lamented missing the opportunity to see Alana's reaction to finding out just WHO she'd been fucking in favor of the poor, broken Will Graham. 

Bitter jealousies bubbled in his throat before he visibly swallowed. "Hi." Not that Will Graham had to fake being awkward around people, but he did do what he could to keep the bitter truth from his eyes. 

"How are you, Will?" 

Alana Bloom stood for many more things with Will now after his 'dreams' than she had before. Before...she had been the ideal. Now? Now Will's ideal was...different. "I have no idea." Said with a breathless chuckle as he kept putting papers back into his bag. A full night of grading papers. Real barn burner there. 

"Um, I didn't want you to be ambushed." 

Will raised a brow even as he knew Jack to be walking in. "This is an ambush?" 

"Ambush is later. Immediately later. Soon to now. When Jack arrives. Consider yourself ambushed." 

"There's Jack." Will said quickly and stood from his podium to lean against the desk again. Grateful for the man's arrival. Irony tasted bitter on Will's tongue as now it was him who didn't want to be in a room alone with Alana. 

Jack looked accusingly at Alana, who was the only one who wouldn't shrink under that gaze. "How was class?" 

"Um, they applauded. It was inappropriate." 

"Well, the review board would beg to differ. You're up for a commendation. And they've, uh, okayed active return to the field." 

"The question is," Alana was happy to butt in, "Do you want to go back into the field?" 

Will remained quiet but considered for a moment that it was not just Jack who saw him as a fragile little teacup. He knew she was just trying to protect him and that warmed him at one point. Now it just smacked of something sour. 

"I want him back in the field. And I told the board I'm recommending a psych eval." 

Will adjusted his tie, a finger slid within the knot to let him loosen it as he let his tone grow bitter. "Are we starting now?" 

"Oh, the session wouldn't be with me." 

"Hannibal Lecter is a better fit. Your relationship is not personal." Will choked back laughter. Jack, ever Jack who had pushed him into the clutches of his only friend and cannibal. "But if you are more comfortable with Dr. Bloom." 

"No." Said quickly and he saw the flash of surprise in Alana's gaze before he dropped his own to the floor. "I'm not going to be comfortable with anyone being inside my head." Will let out a sigh and rubbed a hand over his shoulder and up the back of his neck. "Therapy doesn't work on me." 

"Therapy doesn't work on you because you won't let it." 

"Because I know all the tricks." Will was happy to leave Alana out of the conversation. He had once given up everything just to keep her safe. He felt no guilt of the bitter twist in his stomach. [i]Maybe this time it could be different?[/i] Will shook his head at that voice. It would be different. He just wasn't sure how different. 

"Well, perhaps you need to unlearn some tricks." 

"Why not have a conversation with Hannibal? He is unique to many psychiatrists." 

Will just adjusted his glasses, kept his head bowed. Let them read disdain in his shoulders and didn't correct their thoughts. Pulled the glasses from his face and turned to walk away. 

"Come on, Will! I need my beauty sleep!" 

\- - - 

Will was punctual to this unofficial appointment. Felt the heavy presence of the Doctor who he hadn't seen since that tragic car ride. When he'd asked Will if all he was was the intention of the Display. Hanging up his coat and glancing around the office before heading over to the ladder that lead up to the books. Pausing with his hand over the rung. "May I?" 

He glanced to the Doctor, who was watching him a moment before offering a tight, false smile. "Of course." Will was quick to ascend, feeling better for the space between them. Hannibal lifted a piece of paper from his desk and approached where Will was on the upper level. 

"What's that?" 

"Your psychological evaluation. You are totally functional and more or less sane. Well done." Hannibal had an almost friendly smile on his face, Will wondered if he would ever be able to truly decode the Doctor. He considered letting the baton swing and trying it...but since he'd discovered Hannibal's true identity he'd been afraid to try. 

Afraid of what he might find. 

"Did you just rubber stamp me?" 

"Yes. Jack Crawford may lay his weary head to rest knowing he didn't break you and our conversation can proceed unobstructed by paperwork." 

Will chuckled softly and placed one of the books back as Hannibal continued to look up at him. "Jack thinks I need therapy." 

"What you need is a way out of dark places when Jack sends you there." 

Will let out a breath. "Last time he sent me into a dark place, I brought something back." Will made his way for the ladder and climbed down. Making a noise when his hand came over Hannibal's own. Jerking his own back like he'd been burnt before realizing Hannibal had only held onto the ladder to steady him. Needlessly. 

"What came from this last dark place?" 

Will looked at him. Didn't like how Hannibal seemed to pick him apart under that look. "Too many things. Questions, uncertainties. Unwalked paths and possibilities." Even in the end, Will held Hannibal's opinion in high regard and Will needed that steadiness to lean against. 

"Dr. Lecter, can I ask you a question?" Will kept his eyes trained at the double Windsor knot Hannibal perfected in his tie. Will could barely manage the normal knot. When the doctor nodded his head, Will pulled off his glasses and took a seat in the chair he'd longed claimed as his own. Hannibal choosing to sit across from him. 

"Two roads lie before you. One you know and one you don't. The one you know ends in pain, betrayal but gives you the first clarity you've ever known. The road you don't...can end in anything...Which road do you take?" 

Hannibal's head tilted as he considered for a moment. "I suppose it depends on what you wish to truly possess, Will. Do you seek clarity or do you allow the uncertainty of possibility lay hold?" Will watched the doctor's gaze drift to Will's hand as Will had reached down and touched across a wound in the chair that had been stitched and was invisible to the eye, but the finger could feel it. Will had done this out of habit and paused when he realized the folly. 

Sitting forward, elbows on his knees as he ground the heels of his palms into his eyes and rubbed briskly. "I think I'm just very tired." Will said with a gusty sigh. "This whole Shrike ordeal..." 

Hannibal's expression remained stoic, glancing down to his own hand for a moment. "I find it difficult to believe the Minnesota Shrike case was so taxing on you, Will. Aside from finding Elise Nichols and the Copycat's showing in the field...mostly it was paperwork, am I wrong?" 

Will glanced up for a moment. "You're not wrong." Will shook his head. Will wanted to tell him everything, to see just what he would say...or if Hannibal would put Will in one of those adorable 'all day hug' jackets. 

Hannibal leaned forward and looked at Will, waiting until Will met that gaze. "It is clearly something you do not wish to discuss with me. Though, I am curious as to why you think my reaction would be a negative one. That is what is stopping you, correct?" 

Will was held by that maroon gaze. Before he barely nodded his head. "I'm afraid that this world will crack open and I will wake up in a hospital bed. I'm more afraid that this isn't some vivid hallucination and that I've simply added another layer onto the crazy." The words came whether Will wanted them to or not. He bit his tongue to remind it who was in control. 

Hannibal nodded his head and leaned back again. "I will tell you this, Will. No matter how crazy you might think something is, I'll not condemn you for it. I will help you through it. You have too many shadows hiding behind your eyes to be left to face them alone. You need a steadying hand to guide you from those dark places. I can be that hand, if you let me." 

Will considered the gravity of what was being offered to him, yet all he could do is nod his head. It is all he'd ever wanted, really. It took him almost dying to realize that. 

"Then, when you're ready to talk to me of this we shall. Until then...I would like for you to come to dinner at my home. Since you're not my patient, I don't see why we cannot be friends." 

\- - - 

Will stared at the paper target across the enclosed gun range and sighed a bit. Flipping the switch that would draw it closer. He didn't see Hobbs' corpse floating towards him with the smile this time. Did that mean that Will was more sane this time around? That the fever hadn't kicked in yet? Or just that he was a different kind of crazy now? Fun. 

He was down here for a reason. He knew he would be called in for the Mushroom Guy. "I'm pretty sure firearm accuracy isn't a prerequisite for teaching." He looked over his shoulder to Beverly and slid the sound dampeners off his head. 

"Well, I've been in the field before." 

"Now you're back in the saddle. Ish." 

"Ish indeed." He said as he loaded another target and set it out. Loading another clip and taking a few paltry shots. His eyes closed as he'd forced his sloppier stance. Ever since Bev had first corrected his stance he'd adapted. 

"You're a Weaver. I took you for an Isosceles guy." That smile came so easily to her lips that Will could almost be jealous. 

"I have a rotator cuff issue so I have to use the Weaver stance." 

He felt her hand on his shoulder, adjusting where it rest. "You are tight." He was amazed that the contact still didn't trouble him, not from Beverly. Anyone else would have found the bladed side of his tongue and observations but Bev seemed to hold an immunity card he'd not been aware of. 

"I got stabbed when I was a cop." About a million years ago. Light years. 

"Yeah, I got stabbed in the third grade with a number two pencil. Thought I was gonna get lead poisoning." She was already adjusting his stance as she spoke. 

"Uh, no lead in pencils. It's graphite." He said with a weak smile. Enjoying the easy (for Will) flow of conversation. Scenarios playing in his head, ways to make sure Beverly doesn't meet some grisly, horrible fate. Memories of the Stag on the rise. 

"See if that helps with the recoil." 

Will fired off a few more rounds, the grouping much more desirable. "That was better. You come all the way down here to teach me how to shoot?" 

"No. Jack sent me down here to find out what you know about gardening." 

This case always gave him the chills. The results were creepy, even to him. Though, he commended Jack for having chosen Beverly to entice him to the newest case. That was proper manipulation as he saw it. 

\- - - 

Will found himself, once again, looking down the line of mushroomed corpses. He already knew the design, letting others talk around him as he tried to see what the appeal of such connections were. Connections were messy things, unpredictable and the idea of doing so, physically on that kind of level made his skin crawl. Though, that could also be the fact that he knew Freddie Lounds was watching him. 

He had to constantly portray himself as a victim and it was growing tedious. Will Graham was no longer anyone's victim. Pulling back as the corpse reached up to take hold of him and shouted for assistance. He stood there, just watching and letting Freddie take those stupid photos that would paint him to be some kind of nut case. And honestly? Maybe he was. 

Connections. He was trying to connect with Hannibal, though to assume the two weren't exclusive seemed almost an insult to Hannibal. Speaking of, he was due for another conversation with the man. Honestly, he was a little off balance about the whole thing. Off balance. Will scoffed and drew a rueful glance from Zeller. 

This dancing on the edge of knowledge and awareness was getting to him. He was at a near total lack of sleep. Exhaustion creeping up his spine. Who knew playing ignorant would be so very taxing on the mind? Speaking of knowing, he knew that Jack and Zeller would bring this guy down. He would let them take the collar, since it meant nothing to him. Especially now that the Mushroom Guy didn't have Abigail to target. 

No, Will had far more important things to worry about. Like dinner with Hannibal. 

\- - - 

At precisely seven pm Will Graham knocked on the door to the very upscale Baltimore home. A smiling Hannibal answered and invited him in. Will had made some attempts at being presentable. A plain black button down tucked neatly into a pair of khaki colored trousers. He'd even used that ancient lint roller thing to try to get all the dog hair off. He was practically dressed to the nines, as far as he was concerned. He pulled his coat off and nodded in thanks as the Doctor took it from him. 

Will knew Jack had been here the night before. Remembered the man speaking about it in a previous life. Pork loin. Likely not. 

Will moved past Hannibal once the had was gestured out to allow Will further. Making his way towards the dining room and pausing at the door way. Seeing and hearing echoes playing at the edges of his peripheral vision. he turned his head as Hannibal spoke. 

"Most people get lost in my home. End up turning wrong for my study rather than cut straight to the dining room. You've an excellent sense of direction, Will." Knowledge playing along Hannibal's expression. Dangerous games. Hannibal walked over to the small bar that was always kept stocked. 

A drink poured and set before him, Will was surprised to find it a whiskey. Glancing up and nodding his thanks to the Doctor who seated himself at the head of the table. Sleeves still rolled up to his elbows. Will's eyes fell on Hannibal's wrists. Looking at the lack of scars there. Scars he'd put there, at one point...though not himself. 

"I've timed our dinner thus to give us some time to talk." Hannibal poured himself from the same glass bottle and took a small sip as Will tried to emulate and not just gulp the drink down as he is prone to. Of course, he's almost not accustomed to actually drinking anything over twenty bucks. He could see visions of AA meetings in his future. 

"Your 'rubber stamp' may have been premature." 

Sitting beneath the stars with his dogs around a small fire. Listening to the churning of the river not a hundred feet from where he currently was. If he tried to manipulate Hannibal he would find himself diced and served with a mint sauce. Least, he'd assumed. Will had long ago learned to not try to predict Hannibal's recipe book. He'd mulled over just how to do this. Whether to make Hannibal his ally in this matter and reveal all or to simply continue. 

Will went for Option C. 

Will scrubbed a hand along his jaw and finished off his drink. Hannibal reached over and very quietly poured it full again and Will smiled weakly in thanks. 

"I consider you my friend...my only friend. Once I tried to throw that away...but now? Now I find myself clutching to the ideal so hard that my knuckles have run white and I can barely breath. Which is why I'm here..." Will watched as Hannibal gave him the ability to get to his point in his own method. He damn near loved him for that. "Friendship, I mean. Jack wants me to think he's my friend. Alana. They all want that title but they're unwilling to not carve their pound of flesh from my hide. You? I don't think you have such dark motives. I think maybe you just want someone to understand you as well. Like I do, Doctor Lecter." 

They both heard the soft chime of the oven. Will could see the barest flash of annoyance as it broke the openness that had been laid bare. Will looked away from him. Hoping he'd not tipped too much. This would become a game of checks and balances. Will would have to bleed small parts of himself to the beast that resided in Hannibal's flesh. Just enough that he was avoiding undue suspicion. 

"I think at this point, it appropriate for you to call me Hannibal. If you'll excuse me, I would hate for the dish to burn." Hannibal rose and moved towards the kitchen. Leaving Will to consider the amber liquid in the glass on the table in front of him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I realize this is a slow moving fic, I hope you all understand.
> 
> It's worth it.
> 
> Also, yes, Will is quite calm at the end, yes? Mighty suspicious!


	6. White Noise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A balance is struck between knowing what is supposed to happen and what is going to happen. Will comes to the crushing realization that some things might not be changeable.

The plate set before Will was, as always, exquisite. Delicate sausages set aside a rather fancy looking salad and that wonderful cranberry sauce. "Lamb Masala Sausage served with an Artichoke salad and a craberry reduction sauce." Will looked up as Hannibal announced the dish and took a seat.

There was a moment between them of perfect silence before Will lifted his cutlery and sliced into the sausage and gently swiped it along the pool of red sauce. Lifting it to his lips and pausing just a moment. He looked at Hannibal then. Who was watching him with a strange sort of intensity that Will hadn't recognized at first. It was almost obvious now. 

The bite was placed into his mouth and his lips closed around the fork only to pull it away clean. Such absolute perfection nearly melted over his tongue and Will couldn't help but close his eyes. Chewing and allowing the robust burst of flavor to sweep away the thoughts currently dwelling behind his eyes. 

It was delicious. 

Will almost missed the pleased look on his Host's rather hard-to-read face before wielding the knife and fork with the precision and care of a surgeon. 

Again Will looked to the plate. He knew that there was about as good a chance of this being lamb sausage as there was him being declared the Queen of England. He couldn't dredge up the revulsion he'd once experienced when he figured out he'd been fed long pig. He could barely even remember it. 

"You mentioned before that you'd lost a friendship, hence why you are seeking to get the most of this second chance. Tell me, what happened to your friend?" 

Will's fork hovered a moment before he finished his bite and washed it down with the rather light wine. "I'm told I'm rather caustic" There was that dry tone that he considered patenting. Beverly had suggested it once. Price offered to pay for it. "I suppose a series of events lead up to us parting. Like a child post tantrum surrounded by broken and familiar toys and not really understanding that they'd broken them. Watching them go...felt like someone had gutted me." 

Not untrue. It had felt like that. Mostly because he'd been actually gutted. At least he thought so. The jury was still out on what was actually going on. This could still be just a sick fever dream. One that Will hoped he'd not wake from. 

Hannibal nodded once and Will wondered what was going through the man's head (not for the first time, either). Conversation after that was far more light. Will had no inclination of revealing everything to Hannibal. He wasn't sure he'd ever, really, be able to. It grated on him not being completely forthright with the man he considered monster and friend. What did that make Will? 

Will attempted the weak and well-worn excuse of having to see to his dogs when Hannibal offered him the use of the guest room. One look and Will knew he'd never be able to get through the door. They'd shared almost half the bottle of good whiskey and he relented. It should bother him to feel good at seeing the pleased expression on Hannibal's face. It didn't. 

For the first time in who knows how long. Will Graham slept soundly and peacefully. 

\- - - 

After a rather amazing breakfast and more of 'coffee of the gods' (he got a chuckle from Hannibal when he shared his title of the man's coffee), Will knew he had to go to the BAU headquarters to clue everyone in on Stammets' true identity. Excusing himself from the home and sitting behind the wheel of his car in the drive for a few lingering moments before taking a breath and entering the tedium of Maryland highways. 

He stood in the lab with Price and Zeller at one body and Beverly working at one of the others in a separate room. "What were they soaked in?" 

Zeller took a breath to answer, but Jimmy beat him to the punch. "A highly concentrated mixture of hardwoods, shredded newspaper and pig poop. Perfect for growing mushrooms and other fungi." It was like Price just enjoyed popping Brian's balloons. Will didn't mind the show of watching the man deflate just a bit. 

"It was not the mushrooms, though. They all died of kidney failure." Brian finally managed, holding out a hand, to make his point. Will turned his head just as Beverly entered the room. 

"Dextrose in all the catheters. He probably used some kind of dialysis or peristaltic to pump fluids after their circulatory systems broke down." Handing over the foldered reports to Jimmy so he can look over them. 

Will made his way to the other body where his small to go cup was rested. He'd stolen it from the break room since carrying around the thermos Hannibal had so graciously given him to get him through the day. Hannibal should be given an award for saving half a dozen lives for that act alone. "Force-feeding them sugar water?" 

"You know who loves sugar water? Mushrooms. They crave it." Jimmy said as he leaned a hand on the table with the body the trio were now currently working on. 

"Recovering alcoholics. They crave sugar. Uh, don't take that personally, buddy." Brian offered to Jimmy with a grin. 

"Oh, I'm not recovering." Jimmy was quick to fire back, but allowed Brian to go on uninterrupted. 

"Feed sugar to the fungus in your body, the fungus creates alcohol, so it's like friends helping friends, really." Brian and Jimmy's back and forth was amusing, but Will needed them to get to the point. 

"It's not just alcoholics who have compromised endocrine systems." Jimmy and Brian both looked at him as he walked behind Beverly and kept his eyes on the body, trying not to squirm at being the focus of attention. "They all died of kidney failure?" Give it a moment, pause for effect and let them mull it over before Will gave them the answer. "Death by diabetic ketoacidosis." 

Beverly looked instantly to Zeller. "Did you know they were diabetics?" Her tone reprimanding and her arms folded under her chest. 

"We don't know they were diabetics." Brian tried to save himself for the oversight. 

Will just shook his head, "No, they're all diabetics. He induces a coma and puts them in the ground." 

"How is he inducing diabetic comas?" Beverly looked at Will who glanced at her, eyes remaining at her brow close to the hairline. 

"Changes their medication. So he's a doctor or a pharmacist or he works somewhere in medical services." Beverly was the quickest to catch on. He missed her brain at work. Watched her fit the pieces together. 

"He buries them, feeds them sugar to keep them alive long enough for the circulatory systems to soak it up." 

"So he can feed his mushrooms!" Jimmy and Zeller were now both on the same page with Will. 

"We dug up his mushroom garden." Brian offered with a look to Price. 

"Yeah, he's going to want to grow a new one." Will said in a soft voice as he grabbed his phone. There was a small window and he needed Jack working now to not miss Eldon. 

\- - - 

Will walked with Jack at the epicenter of an FBI strike force. Approaching the front and back doors of the food mart where Eldon Stammets was currently logged into his work station. Will made sure there were agents at all exits so to not miss their opportunity. 

"She's the chain's 10th diabetic customer to disappear after filling a prescription for insulin, second to disappear from this exact location." They walked through the Mart, Will sparing few glances to the customers currently being secured to make sure nothing would go wrong. 

"And the other eight?" He asked Jack, both moving with a purposeful stride. 

"All over the county. One pharmacist all over the county as well." 

"Ah. Floater, huh?" They were in sight of the pharmacy now. Jack pointing at a couple browsing frozen vegetables. Hannibal wouldn't be caught dead in this store if you tied him up and drug him in. He'd sooner kill you for trying. 

"Floaters floating right here. Still logged in at his work station." Jack maneuvered his men with gestures as he pulled out his ID. His voice ringing with unquestionable authority. "Everyone please stop what you are doing. Place your hands in the air!" 

Will drew his sidearm along with Jack at the sound of a crash in one of the pill isles. Pills pouring out over the floor as one of the dispensers cracked open. 

"ELDON STAMMETS!" Jack's voice bellowed throughout the entire store. One of the FBI strike force got the other pharmacists, looking confused and scared, from behind the counter as the others moved in. Assault rifles held at the ready as they circled. They were backing up an unassuming man who had tried to break for the door. His coworkers already looking confused and alarmed. 

"You are under arrest for the murder. Johnson, zip tie him and get him in transport." One masked and armored Agent focused on the man the other pharmacists were looking at in horror. 

Will paused, "Is his car still in the parking lot?" He looked over to the other techs and pharmacists standing there with a rather dumb expression on his face. 

Jack looked at Will before turning to the alarmed faces. "His car!" 

Will and Jack were outside in a moment. Will held out his hand as he nearly ran to the car. "Give me your baton." He stood to one side and used a back swing to get the window to shatter before popping the trunk. 

"Ugh!" The smell was just as bad as he remembered and he dug through the fertilizer to reveal the face of Gretchen Speck. "She's alive!" 

Jack moved quick. "EMTs! NOW!" 

Will let out a sigh as he let the two EMTs to the trunk to pull the woman out. Jimmy jogged up, a bit winded and looked at Jack. "Jack. We just checked the browser history at Stammets' work station." 

"Am I gonna wanna hear this?" Jack didn't like wrenches thrown into a perfect wrap. 

"No. And yes, but mostly no." 

Will remembered how much he hated Freddie Lounds. They headed back into the store and back to the work station. 

"Freddie Lounds. Tattle Crime." Brian helpfully offered. Will knew that he'd been sleeping with Lounds. Shuddered at the thought but knew, now, that the man would realize he was just being used for information. 

"The FBI isn't just hunting psychopaths, they're headhunting them, too. Offering competitive pay and benefits in the hopes of using one demented mind-" Beverly pulled back, disgusted at what was written and glanced to Will. Wanting to save him from what he already knew. 

"Keep going." Jack had no such qualms, of course. 

"It's about Will." Bev looked uncomfortable but Will nodded his head to her even as Jack told her to go on. 

"One demented mind to catch...She goes into a lot of detail." 

"Son of a bitch." Jack wasn't happy. Brian looked like he was going to puke. 

\- - - 

Will was at home, in Wolf Trap. The sun had set and he was enjoying the quiet of his front porch. Quiet in that there were no sounds of civilization. The snores and sounds of his dogs were as comforting to him as a childhood blanket. 

They'd caught Eldon at the pharmacy, which meant that the detective that Lounds had used at the mushroom garden was still alive. Suspended and likely to lose his job, but alive. 

He wondered, eyes closing, just what Abigail was doing right now. He wondered how Hobbs was enjoying Chilton's effervescent presence, he should be delivered at the psych ward a few hours ago. Smirking some at the thought of the pretentious and ham handed psychiatrist. 

Blinking his eyes open as his cell phone buzzed. Opening the cell at seeing Jack's number. "Will." Will instantly knew it was bad news at the tone the man was using. 

"Yes, Jack?" 

"Garrett Jacob Hobbs escaped from the transport today. Hibbing PD found the body of Cynthia Hobbs at the home in Minnesota. Her throat had been cut. Abigail Hobbs is missing. Will? Will!?" The phone had been dropped from fingers no longer following the commands that Will gave them. 

And Will's world came crashing down around him like so much white noise. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it wrong I take a sick kind of joy at torturing people with cliffhangers. I know I've been tortured by a few. I found a new one for you all.
> 
> Leave a comment/kudo if you're enjoying the story thus far. Tell me what you think?
> 
> What's your design?
> 
> Also, I'm a fan of chatting with people and I realize that there is no way to do so aside from a comment. My Skype: featheredstag When you send the friend request just include Omoide in the greeting and I will add you. :)


	7. This is My Design

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abigail missing and Will finding himself.

Will sat in the office of Jack Crawford wishing he could hear anything past the soft whirring sound that kept a steady tone in the back of his mind. It was familiar to him, and yet...different. His elbows perched on his knees and his face buried in his hands. He was in agony over the disappearance of Abigail Hobbs.

And no one understood why. 

They guessed and speculated at why he was staying long hours and trying to get the FBI fully entrenched. Many of them whispered that Abigail must have helped her father escape. Or better that she was gone because not everyone believed her tale of a manipulative father. They whispered over water coolers with small dixie cups of profiles for killers and how she sure fit the bill. 

Jack was speaking on the phone but was being pinned down by red tape and legal. Will looked up with Jack hung up the phone. "Will..." 

Will could already hear the excuse on Jack's tongue and he stood. Even Jack paused as he saw the glacial lines threading through stormy blue lines. "This is bullshit, Jack! She's an innocent girl!" 

"Yes, well, they're saying that her plea of coercion is suspect given light on what's happened!" Jack's tone was usually enough to cow any of his dream team but Will had had enough. Time to show dear old Jack some of the spine that Will had developed. 

"The FBI wants evidence of her testimony being anything but a move to keep herself from persecution. You may as well tie her up and weight her with rock and throw her into a lake to see if she floats or not, Jack! I'm not sitting around and letting that bastard have enough time to 'honor every part of her'. I'll be in Hibbing. Here's hoping the East Coast stays murder free while I'm gone." 

Will did not heed the voice calling his name in his furious wake. No one stood in his way, there would be other whispers now. Whispers of whether or not Will Graham finally snapped and looked a little too closely into a psychopath's mind. 

\- - - 

"Will Graham, you are not there in an official capacity! You're not even..." 

Will's teeth ground down hard as Jack's voice trailed. "What, Jack? Not even what? Official FBI? Well, that's a convenient thing for you to throw around. I'm welcome when I'm tearing my skull apart in order to give you a killer but when it comes to actually saving a life that may be truly innocent but suspect? Well, then I'm not -real- FBI." 

So many people forgot that Will did more than just empathize with killers. He could empathize with anyone and that meant more than just seeing the world through their eyes. Whispers of fears, motivations, things never admitted to others slid around his brain. Will was already ostracized for being too blunt about what he saw, he didn't need to add the private insights of others to the fray. Though what a weapon they made. 

"It's fine, I've long come to the conclusion that you're pointing at killers to me in one hand and at the other sliding the collar around my neck and just waiting for me to snap. You're only hope is that you can get one more out of me before that happens. One more conviction. I wonder who's skull you'll have to tear open to find Mother and her Lost Boys, Jack." 

Will closed his eyes and cut to the heart. Words like a pack of snarling dogs he'd commanded to go for the throat. 

"You lost Agent Lass just like you lost me. To your righteous sense of self importance. You can consider this my notice of resignation." 

Will slid the phone's screen and disconnected the call. Sliding it into his pocket as he snarled softly into the chilly autumn air. Hibbing, Minnesota was already dropping in temperatures cold enough to fog breath. He stood in the doorway of the Shrike Nest. Looking down at his phone even as he picked up his backpack. 

He was wearing hunter's gear with a hat pulled low and a camouflaged ski mask pulled up. Shouldering the rifle as well as he headed out. 

Hobbs would have stopped here to resupply. He'd have moved into the woods, both he and Abigail knowing neither would ever leave again alive. Hobbs needed privacy to honor his daughter and time. He'd had both for far too long. 

Will was no hunter, but he knew a trail when he saw one. Subtle, sparse. Abigail was a very intelligent girl and she knew she'd have to point the way. She was doing just that. Small branches broken and left hanging. A gum wrapper. A deep boot print in soft mud. He'd even found a scrap of cloth. 

How long ago these were left? He couldn't say. Long enough that he was worried that he wasn't on a rescue mission. Long enough to consider that this would end in revenge. 

How cruel that the universe would continue to heap Abigail Hobbs' death on his shoulders. This would be the third time and Will was beginning to find the cosmic joke no longer amusing. Like a pun spoken too often to do anything more than make people roll their eyes. How many times would he suffer this? 

Twice, he hopes. Just twice in one life to lose a daughter that was never his. 

He walked, lost in the low whirring in his mind. Having slipped from the familiar mind of Garrett Jacob Hobbs to something colder and far more frightening; his own. He didn't walk alone. Beside him was the silhouette of the Stag. 

\- - - 

Twilight settled faster than he'd have liked. He'd considered the flashlight, but that was entirely too much of a give away. Instead he continued on. He would later berate himself on not being more perceptive to the woods around him. But for now? The loud crack of a rifle rang through the air and Will dropped down as low as he could. Scuttling behind a tree. He could feel the pain in his shoulder beginning the bloom. 

It was over far more quickly than a small part of Will would have liked. Three shots. One more from Hobbs that ate up the bark of the tree where Will had been and the one from Will. It caught Hobbs in the throat and dropped the man back into the snow. 

Will walked forward, gun aimed up until he saw Hobbs lying in the dirt at another cabin. His throat was torn open and gushing. Will met the man's eyes and reached up. Pulling down the mask and off the hat before he crouched down and slid Hobbs' gun away from his hands. The last thing the Minnesota Shrike would see would be the smile on Will's face, too many teeth to be a comforting gesture. 

He already knew Abigail was dead. She was likely dead for days and nothing more than bones. 

Once the wet gasps and harsh jerks went still and he knew Hobbs to be dead. Will stood and looked around. He was so tired. Having walked for hours. He dropped his bag down onto the ground and dug out a little granola bar. Feeling a wash over his thoughts as the whirring suddenly intensified. The granola bar falling from his fingers into blood soaked earth. 

A pure sort of warmth pouring over him. Like the building of the waves before it came rushing in and dragging him under in the riptide. Will's body felt like a piano wire stretched too tight, seconds before snapping. Will Graham fell to the ground beside Hobbs' own as the first seizure tore through him. 

\- - - 

Will stood, wavering slightly in place. His lungs suddenly expanding as he remembered to breath. The sun just coming up over the ridge, not quite there by the looks of the sky still being shadowy in the West. Jesus, he'd lost time. That meant his encephalitis was moving faster than he'd hoped. Good thing he'd already scheduled a head scan in four weeks. 

Next available appointment, what a joke. 

Looking around the forest and feeling sweat, hot on chilly flesh already cooling. Reaching up and dragging a hand down his soaked features before running through his hair to try to encourage it to dry. The sun finally broke the ridge and Will looked at sightless eyes of the corpse beside him. 

He was certainly not afraid. Will was more afraid of the fact he didn't feel revulsion. He felt...justified. He also felt pain, his arm having gone untreated. 

He found the remains of Abigail Hobbs. Bones stripped of meat. Long hair braided and cut. It tore through him to see her reduced to this. Maybe...maybe he made the wrong choice. Maybe he should have killed Hobbs on the kitchen floor, let Hannibal save her from the cut throat. He'd have stowed her away and they would have tried to save her. Instead, he quietly buried the body and none would be the wiser for the strand of hair slipped into his pocket to remember her by. 

\- - - 

"You are quite lucky it missed the bone." Accented words pulled him back from the slow churn of emotions as Will took a deep breath. He sat in Dr. Lecter's office as the man worked at stitching up the wound. Will could barely remembering even getting on the plane back to Baltimore. 

It felt like his very first breath. "I gave Jack my resignation...and wished him luck in catching his latest and greatest." 

Hannibal chuckled softly and nod his head. "Yes, I know. He came to my office shortly after. I had been considering whether to send my bill to him or the FBI." A hand on Will's shoulder to keep the man steady as the needle pierced flesh. Will barely felt it. 

Will gave him a smirk. "Best send it to Jack, you'd have a better chance at dodging the red tape." 

"Tell me, Will...how do you feel?" 

Will paused at those words. Turning his head to regard Hobbs standing in the shadows, visible to only his eyes and then back. "Like I've been suffocating all my life in the miasma of banality. Like the world was working so hard to crush my shoulders until my spine gives out...and suddenly...I've had air breathed into me. Like that weight is lifted from me." 

Hannibal smiled and taped up the wound. He'd never asked Will when he'd been shot or why. Or by whom. Will could only assume that he knew. Somehow, like always, Hannibal knew. 

Soft words spoken by Will stopped Hannibal. He'd risen and walked over to wash his hands after treatment was finished. His head turning to one side, but the smile that barely touched his lips went unobserved. Entirely predatorial. 

"This is my design." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hands out tissues*
> 
> Yes, she is gone. 
> 
> Yes, it was a hard decision to come to but some things can't be changed. Fate only allows you so much leeway before it pulls you back.
> 
> Also, your comments are better than tacos when it comes to my sustenance.


	8. Cut You Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shift is made on the board. No longer defending the White Bishop, a new Black Queen cuts the game to the quick, though there is yet much to be played.

Eventually the animal ravaged corpse of Garrett Jacob Hobbs was found. While the body was all but tatters after the animals had gotten to it, the fact that he died from a gunshot was determined and the man hunt for Abigail Hobbs had begun. Only Will knew that they would never find her. He'd made sure of that. He had been able to give her the peace she'd seemed destined to own. In every life. 

Since Will had resigned the FBI, there was only the matter of turning in his ID and collecting Will's things at the BAU which Hannibal had offered to escort him. 

Will found himself tired but restless and sat down in the armchair beside the fire and stared at the flames. Everything was...different. Colors seemed so much more vivid and Will had found a sense of peace in the distant shadows of his own mind that he'd only ever prayed for. How surreal was it to have shed the cloak of false pretense and take on something more fitted to what Will wanted. For himself for no other reason than it was what he wanted. 

Abigail's death stung. He had looked at the skull and it's macabre smile for hours. 

Will blinked from the flames, having drifted off to his own train of thoughts, fingers lingering over his lips before his hand lowered. Hannibal sat beside him, book open in his hands though Will is certain he'd not yet heard the turning of a page. 

"I would hate to impose on you tomorrow, Hannibal. Jack is not going to be pleasant to deal with." The man with clay earth colored eyes considered with a light pursing of his lips. Musing over the offer to escape from the possibly vastly entertaining idea of Will shutting Jack down entirely. Will could almost hear the train of thought and pluck it from the air. Will smirked softly as he raised an eyebrow at Hannibal as if daring the man to try to deny the delight at seeing Jack flailing. "I'd offer to let you record the events if the idea wasn't so tasteless." 

Will watched as those maroon eyes met his own before the skin at the corners crinkled. Caught in his own celebration of getting to see Will cut Jack out of his life in person. Hannibal simply chuckled and nod his head. "Indeed, we shall leave such banal necessity to the likes of Freddie Lounds." 

Will scoffed, offended that he would even possibly be compared and took a sip of whiskey that was equal parts name he couldn't pronounce due to the language and because he kept drinking it. Though, his glass empty, he held out his hand when Hannibal made to sit up to refill it once more. "No, the last thing I need is Jack's shouting while I'm nursing a hangover. Though, I may have you write down the name of this so I can pick up a bottle for myself." Signalling a clear approval for the heady liquid. 

Standing, he straightened his sweater some and nodded to Hannibal who bid him a quiet goodnight. 

\- - - 

"Will, people are -dying-." 

Will reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose as he stood over a box with his things tucked inside. This was Jack's favorite argument. Heap guilt onto his shoulders and watch Will carve his own head open with the hope of enough spilling out to get them their killer. 

"That's what people do, Jack. They die. None of us get out of this alive. You've been catching killers since long before I graced the halls of the BAU. You don't need me to do it. You have Alana and Hannibal has graciously offered his services as a profiler to help you, as well." A hand gestured to the man standing to one side with his coat over his forearm. Hannibal had the grace to bow his head when acknowledged. 

"We catch them faster with you, Will! I've explained this before. You make jumps faster than anyone I've ever seen." 

Will was nearing the edge of his patience. 

"You threw me to the wolves the moment it was convenient, Jack. Let's not forget just -why- I resigned." Will all but spat the words and came up feeling smug at the way Jack looked away, unable to hold the sudden eye contact Will initiated. Jack knew he'd pushed too hard and then pulled the safety net out from underneath Will at the last second. 

"I've been considering going into Private Investigation, high rates and I've already started writing up my terms." This garnered a rather interested look from Hannibal. "You want my services? You're going to have to petition for them, Jack. I'm done playing at the ends of your strings." 

Will lifted the box filled with his belongings and walked for the door that Jack was currently standing in. There's a moment where Jack was unmoving, almost glaring at Will before he let out a sigh and moved to one side. 

Leaving Will to walk out and Hannibal after him. Hannibal offered a polite smile to Jack as he passed by and Will matched the Doctor's stride as they shifted through the halls. "Private Investigation, Will?" The accented question was more an offer to let the man explain further and Will recognized that fact. 

"Something I've been considering. It would allow me to set the rules with a hard line with Jack. And he would have to explain himself to the board why he would need to justify the shift in budget if he does want me in the field. Not something the FBI will easily allow, but they are likely already burning the soles of his feet about the Lost Boys and the dead families. Bad PR is the quickest way to the heart of the FBI, after all. Or I could just write." 

Will shifted his head. Shouldn't he feel badly? Shouldn't there be the mantle of guilt that these were lives he could save? He tried so hard to feel badly about it, but the FBI had walked a path that already told Will once how quickly they turned their backs on their own. They hadn't in this life, but Will wasn't going to let them have the chance at an encore. 

"It's so very...satisfying." Will said mostly to himself, but looked up when the curious sound emitted from the Doctor's throat. Will glanced away and nodded his thanks as Hannibal opened the doors of Quantico's headquarters. "I should be wracked with guilt and I'm a little surprised to find the opposite to be true. I don't feel like I'm failing myself with leaving...I feel like I've heard the first strings of a song I cannot place and yet know and finally the name's flavor on my tongue." 

Will set the box of his things in the trunk of the Sedan. Offering up a smile to Hannibal before he spoke his goodbyes and that he was looking forward to the dinner planned that Friday. Will closed the door of the Sedan and drove off, headed for the long drive to Wolf Trap. 

He did not see the smile on Hannibal's lips as he watched the profiler drive away. Dark satisfaction glinting in dangerous eyes. 

The game may have changed, but the pieces were still in play. Will had simply changed sides on the board. Now the Black Queen and Hannibal had just used him to knock out the White Bishop that had been threatening him. 

"You may be done at playing at the ends of Jack Crawford's strings, dear Will. But not mine." 

\- - - 

Will offered a forced smile to Dr. Sutcliff as he looked down at the prescription of antibiotics. "It's a good thing you came when you did. An infection of the brain is no small thing to play with. It could have developed into something much more dangerous." The doctor went on, not looking at Will but the results of the MRI that Will had rather insisted on. 

Will offered an ignorant nod of his head and held up the prescription. "I'll get this filled right away. And call you if I need anything." Standing and shaking the hand of Dr. Sutcliff before heading out and sliding into his coat. The scarf wrapped around his neck carefully as he made his way out to his car. 

He'd been gathering information on all of the certifications he would need in order to be licensed as a P.I. Thinking he was going to have to invest in some slatted blinds and maybe a fedora, at some point. Pulling off into one of the many pharmacies boasted of in Maryland and stood in line. When he gets to the counter, he glances to the small TV showing breaking news. Angel-Maker found dead by suicide. 

Will shook his head. Angel-Maker still left a sour taste of loss in Will's mouth. Some people Will couldn't save, some he chose not to. Abigail was beyond his reach, fingers reaching for smoke to try to grasp. His own need to see things to rights sealing her father's fate. 

"Sir? Sir?" Will blinked at looked at the unhappy pharmacist handing him his script and then looked pointedly at the line behind him. He paid and quickly left for his Sedan. He sat there a moment and considered what he knew. That meant that Bella had told Jack about her lung cancer. Much as Will loathed Jack right now, he couldn't help but feel the sudden sense of loss. 

The shadow of a sensation crawling over his heart before he turned the car over and headed back home. It was beyond anyone's ability to help with. He knew the details, sordid little things, that were whispered in the halls of Quantico. Pulling out onto the lonely roads that would lead him back home. Only glancing once when he sees the fleet form of black shadows in the growing dark of twilight running alongside him. The stag in full glory leaping in and out of view. 

He let out a gust of a sigh as he turned on the radio and let the soft sound of solo guitar play. It brought a smile to his face when the rough voice came over. Will found himself humming along with it. Dry swallowing a pair of asprin and an antibiotic. 

"Sooner or later God'll cut you down. Sooner or later God'll cut you...down." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I've left you all hanging for near a week, for this I can only offer cookies to try to make it up to you all.
> 
> The song mentioned in Title and Chapter is 'Cut You Down' from Johnny Cash.
> 
> Leave a comment and I will be the happiest stag.


End file.
